


what makes a best friend

by jayyxx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, dean and cas are bffs, who love each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 01:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4459292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayyxx/pseuds/jayyxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>i don't even know what I'm writing any more so heres a writers block fic about bff's!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	what makes a best friend

A best friend is someone you would pick over anyone else.  
Until Dean was 29 years old, he had always thought of his little brother as his best friend.  
When he was saved by Castiel, he knew there was something about the angel that made him really enjoy his company. But if he were to pin point the moment he said “Yes. We will be good friends,” it had to be when Castiel stood a little too close and told him something he had been wishing Sam would tell him for years; “You deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t that Sam wasn’t his friend anymore, but Sam was his brother. It was a different kind of friendship.  
So as the years went on and Castiel became more present in his life, the strong bond between them became more present, as well.  
They had been through so much that made Dean know that Castiel wasn’t leaving his side, but the smaller things they did for each other made him sure.  
He knew all of Castiel’s little quirks that made a lot of people dislike him. He accepted that Cas likes to stand a little too close and likes to steal fries off your plate, even thought they taste like nothing to him. He catches himself feeling an odd sense of pride when Castiel picks his side of the diner booth. Or his bed to sit on while they watch television in motel rooms. Or even when Castiel needs comfort, he goes to Dean for it.  
He knows all of Castiel’s favourites. His favourite colour (green), his favourite jacket that Dean wears (the red leather one), his favourite reality TV channel (national geographic) and his favourite tie (out of the two) is the blue one, though it’s a little too torn for wearing.  
All it takes for Dean to find out how Castiel is feeling is a glance. Well, no. Sometimes he needs to touch him to really figure it out, but usually he can do it with just a raise of his brows. He knows that if Castiel looks down at the floor, he’s feeling grief or failure, and is need of comfort. If he avoids Dean’s eyes, he’s uncomfortable. If he stares into Dean’s eyes with his eyebrows slightly pinched, Dean knows he’s pissed, and should probably leave the room.  
At that, he knows how to deal with every emotion Castile throws. If he’s sad, Dean’s just gotta sit next to him and bump his shoulder into his, tell him it’s okay, man, and there’s nothing you could have done. Then he pats Castiel’s knee and leaves him, knowing if he needs more, Cas will request it.  
When Castiel is uncomfortable, Dean just strides over, holds his chin and waits for him to spill. Once he does, he answers why blondes are more attractive, why women call him sugar, and why you should always tip the waitress. But when the questions are too much for Dean to answer, he directs Sam to his side to answer why does my penis stand up in the mornings, and why does Dean take so long in the shower. But most of the time, Sam just laughs and sends him to the internet.  
When Castiel is angry, Dean leaves him alone until he is needed. 

So… he probably knows more about the angel then does himself, but when Castiel fell, his personality, favourites and needs changed, just like him. 

Now, when Castiel is upset, he needs more then just a friendly pat on the knee. He needs Dean to sit beside him on the floor where he has his knees tucked to his chest, leaning against the wall. He needs Dean to sling an arm over his shoulders, rub small circles with his thumb until Castiel crumbles, and curls in on Dean, his face pressing into his neck, hands gripping his chest, while Dean coos and holds him through it.  
When he’s uncomfortable, he flushes a deep shade of red, and just goes straight to the internet for his questions.  
When he’s angry, he locks himself in his room for days. 

Now, Castiel needs his back massaged. It used to be once or twice a day, or he wouldn't sleep. He says the weight of his broken wings just tore him down, and his back is sore every day. Dean would rub soothing circles into his shoulders, pressing the heel of his hand into his shoulder blades. And in return, when Dean is shifting uncomfortably in the front seat after a long drive, Castiel will lean forward and snake his hand down the collar of his jacket, and scratch his back. He finds it funny when Dean mewls like a cat and thanks him over and over again. 

Dean notices one day. Castiel is sitting at the end of the motel bed, his eyes and fingers skimming the words of an enchant book, thats written in an enchant language. He giggles at the text every once in a while, and it makes Dean smile too. Dean nudges him with his foot and tells him; “You’re my best friend.” Castiel’s face softens and lights up all at once. His eyes shine and scrunch up. He gives Dean a smile that is specifically for him. Then he laughs, a short and sweet noise that sends tingles up Dean’s spine every time he hears it. Cas’ eyes scrunch up. He puts the book aside and focuses completely on Dean; “You’re my best friend too, Dean.”

All these things are what best friends do. Dean and Castiel are best friends.  
Then theres some things that are a little too intimate to be shared between two “just friend’s”.

Like in purgatory, when Dean couldn’t sleep; Castiel would pull him down on top of him, both laughing as they went, until Dean was laying pressed into Castiel’s side. Cas ran his hands in calm circles on Dean’s back, snaking his hand under his jacket and pressing his hand against cold, grimy skin.  
Then, as pay back, when Castiel returned from purgatory, bloody, beaten, and so very tired; Dean gave up his bed in favour of letting Castiel sleep while Dean sang slow songs and held his hand.  
But it was okay. It was just two friends supporting each other. 

When Cas had his first nightmare, waking and screaming, Dean didn’t know if he’s ever ran so fast. He pushed through Cas’ bedroom door to find in kneeling in the middle of the bed, holding his head, tears flowing like a fountain.  
Dean pulls his hands from his face and almost carries him until he’s sitting with his legs draped over Dean’s and his arms wrapped like rope around Dean’s neck. He kept saying “my fault, my fault” over and over until his tears break his voice and he’s pressing his face into Dean’s neck. Sam is in the doorway, watching with scared eyes as he watches a man so strong, so powerful, just break down.  
Sam gets him water and some sleeping pills. Cas won’t pull away from Dean long enough for him to even drink some water, so Dean sits pressed up behind him, Castiel sitting upright and Dean’s legs on either side of him, arms around his front holding him close as Sam pours some water into Cas’ mouth. Dean has his forehead pressed between Castiel’s shoulder blades, and once Sam leaves, they both just fall over. Castiel still curled against his chest and Dean’s arms around his middle.  
The next night, Dean is up reading about vamps on the internet when a knock rings on the old wooden door. Castiel pushes through and all it takes is for Dean to raise his arm before Cas is crawling under it and cuddling into Dean’s side. They settle under the thin sheets, Dean’s laptop passed to the side and the light flicked off. Cas huffs and lays his head on Dean’s chest. Dean chuckles, stroking Cas’ hair and settling an arm around his back. Cas lays his open hand flat over Dean’s heart, and taps his middle finger along with his heartbeat. It lulls them both into sleep. 

But this still was just two friends helping each other out. Right?  
It’s not like Dean didn’t like having Cas curled against his chest, warm and solid as morning air creeped through an open window. Not that he didn’t like when Cas rolled over, blue meeting green as he whispers “hey.” in a deep gravely voice. Or that his hair is askew, morning sun lighting his profile creating gorgeous shadows along his features. Or that his leg is still pressed between Dean’s own. Keeping them together until one of them shudders out of the touch and leaves bed for coffee.  
But no one had to know how much he loved these mornings. 

And if anyone else were put in the same position, they would have responded the same way.  
Dean had been thrown against a tree during their latest hunt. Now his ribs ached and shoulder had to be popped back into place. All he wanted to do was stay still and/or sleep forever. He was getting old, now if he was 23 again, he’d recover in a matter of hours. But he’s not 23.  
Castiel had pushed Dean’s bedroom door open and kneeled in front of the other man. Dean shied away from Cas’ reassuring touches and just backed up onto the bed, though his ribs screamed at the movement. Castiel only ensued, following Dean and ending up straddling Dean’s hips as Dean pressed fevered kisses against his lips.  
Neither of them really know how it happened. All Dean remembers is Castiel looking beautiful in the glow of the desk lamp, and his feather light touches against Dean’s cheeks as he lifts his face. Then—now that he thinks about it—Dean protested his aching body in hopes of replacing it with another kind of ache. He pulled Cas by the ass up and onto his body so he could kiss him with all the fire he could muster before Cas leans back, pupils blown and lips swollen. Castiel pushes at Dean’s chest so he’s on his back and pulls his own shirt off. He soothes Dean’s shirt over his head and presses gentle kisses—light kisses—against every part of Dean he could reach. 

That night.  
That’s the night Dean decided he and Cas where no longer best friends. They were in love.

**Author's Note:**

> find me @ghostycas on tumblr


End file.
